Before I begin this post, I would like to pose a challenge. What do you think is the most ridiculous injury one can ever inflict upon oneself? I will give you a moment to ponder this. In fact, I will hum the Jeopardy tune in my head while you do it.

Ready? What did you come up with? If you chose Puncture Wound To Palm While Trying To Skewer Heart-Shaped Marshmallow For Roasting Over Open Fire, I would like to congratulate you. Because yes, that is the most ridiculous way to injure oneself, isn't it? Not like I did that last night or anything.

Oh, please. I totally did. Not to worry though, because that girl on the left? She's a nurse. Of course, she's an off-duty nurse who's had several glasses of red wine already, so the medical care I received was perhaps not totally up to snuff. In fact, the medical care I received consisted of Sean whisking me upstairs and slapping a very large band-aid across my palm---thank god for the variety pack from Costco---while blood, no kidding, SPURTED from the vein I'd hit, and I waved my hand around, trying to gross everyone out. The Tipsy Nurse did examine it afterwards, though. Apparently I don't have tetanus. I guess that doesn't really happen when the skewer is made of wood.

But perhaps I need to back up a little. Last night we had a very small "Hey, We Have Outdoor Seating!" party to celebrate the arrival of the green and white striped garden furniture that I had the good fortune of finding on the street last week, and also to give thanks for the replacement of the copper fire pit which, you may remember, was stolen in January from the backyard while Thespian Libby---who had just got out of the shower and was therefore in no state to apprehend the thief---watched in dumbstruck amazement from her top-floor window. In fact it was the notorious Thespian Libby herself---who we shall henceforth refer to as The Notorious L.I.B—who was the one to suggest this little shindig, in an e-mail that contained the following line: "I realize of course that I have done absolutely NOTHING to contribute to the bounty in the backyard---save standing naked whilst a robbery took place before my very eyes---but I would agree to make deviled eggs to make up for my own personal lack of furniture."

Who could resist that, right? And as it turned out, we had Dueling Deviled Eggs, because Lovely Neighbor Stacy whipped up a batch too. I may have eaten approximately forty-eight of them (for comparison purposes, obviously, and also because, HELLO, I needed something to make my life a little more bearable, having just STABBED MYSELF IN THE PALM.)

My puncture wound seems to be doing quite nicely this morning though, and as puncture wounds go, it's actually not the most exciting one I've ever been witness to. No, that honor goes to the Hallowed Fork In The Forehead Incident of 1993. You know how sometimes you get irritated by titles of things because they don't really make sense? ("Uh, yes, actually, like 'nothing but bonfires,' you mean? What's that all about?") Well, the Fork In The Forehead incident is exactly what it sounds like: my sister Susie got punctured by a fork. In her forehead. Right between the eyes, in fact. She was running into the living room, where her dinner was waiting for her on a little child-sized table, and so great was her excitement for her macaroni & cheese, that she ran BANG! straight into the fork that was set out on her table. Her anguished wail made me tear myself away from the latest Sweet Valley High book, and what I saw then was my three-year-old sister WITH A FORK STICKING OUT OF HER HEAD. Hold on---I will allow you a moment to paint a mental image of this in your brain.

And now I will give you another moment to collect yourself after laughing your ass off.

That puncture wound required a trip to the hospital (where the nurses, as far as I could tell, weren't drunk, although the receptionist did ask my father to show her his credit card before she'd admit my sister, DRIPPING WITH BLOOD ALL OVER THE COUNTERTOP into the waiting room of the ER.) Luckily, Susie didn't have tetanus either. Though she does have a scar now, and all I have is this teeny little pinprick on my palm, and a big unwieldy band-aid that makes it impossible to wash my hair.

Hmm. A friend of mine, in an eleven-year-old fit of rage, once stabbed his twin brother in the butt cheek with a pencil. He was rushed off to the E.R., laying on his stomach in the backseat, with a pencil sticking out of his butt. Curiously, he didn't really hold this against his brother once they'd grown up, which seems like a grand opportunity missed, if you ask me.

Until today, that had been the best fratricidal puncture-wound story I'd ever heard.

I hope your hand wound won't make typing too unpleasant!

6

Blakeburn Apr 10, 2006

Adding a little variety to the mix with a puncture/slice story. Male readers may want to skip this...
1975, my ex-boyfriend's 3-year-old brother was being given a piggyback to bed by their dad. Unfortunately, father was a carpenter and had forgotten he had a super sharp pencil tucked in his back pocket. Nib end up. They got upstairs, Jamie slid quickly down his dad's back and SPLIT HIS SCROTUM OPEN.

No lasting damage, but 30 years later ex could still remember The Screaming and The Blood.

7

Blakeburn Apr 10, 2006

Also, when my mum was 9 she punctured her finger with a sewing machine needle. Just sewed her own finger. Mum yelled for help and her devoted little sister covered her eyes and shouted "Don't show me! Don't show me!"

8

Josh Apr 10, 2006

Blakeburn, why do we always seem to be reading this at the same time?

I have no funny wound stories I'm afraid, but can we just BACK UP A MINUTE to Meg:

"*had my shoulder pierced by a falling icicle"

That needs more of an explanation, please. Hell- it needs a blog of its own... I want to know everything about it. I mean, how did it happen?? Were you using a hair dryer in an igloo? How far did it go in? Did you try and pull it out or just kind of let it melt?

Remember, I live in England. Ice here comes in cubes from a tray in the freezer. If I got an injury like that, I think I'd have a t-shirt made proclaiming the fact and wear it maybe all the time. Even just under other clothes on some days. Or I'd get two so one could go in the wash. But I (heavily) digress...

9

Brigette Apr 10, 2006

Try pulling a stomach muscle getting out of bed. The muscle is better in a few minutes but the inner pain lasts a lifetime.

As I started reading about YOUR puncture wound, all I could think was OH PLEASE LET HOLLY TELL THE STORY OF THE FORK IN SUSIE'S HEAD. Because I am mean that way.

And dammit if I didn't laugh as hard this time as I did the first time I heard the story. Thank you. (And Susie, if I've never said so before, I'm so very sorry about the fork. And I'm sure that my laughter will come back to haunt me one day soon, when one of my sons winds up with a fork in HIS head. It is only a matter of time and karma.)

I, not too long ago, cut my finger on a wine glass while doing the dishes. A few years before that, I got cut on the arm by a broken beer bottle whose owner didn't notice the jagged neck before he leaned in for a bear hug. You could say I have a bit of a problem with alcohol, but I swear, I was sober both times.

Learnings: 1.) vodka makes a great antiseptic in a pinch 2.) never buy wine glasses that can't go in the dishwasher

Cutting your finger on a wineglass is for amateurs, Lori! I once FAINTED ON a wineglass. Because obviously, when you are fainting, your first and most urgent thought is, "Protect the wineglass! Protect it like a fragile cub or a pair of crystalline, extrinsic balls!"

I think I can beat you all. Your puncture wounds were accidental. Mine was on purpose. I was 11. There was a fish hook in the middle of the road. I thought "Hey. I'm a Pisces. I should put this fish hook in my mouth so I can learn how my fish brethren feel." There's more here - http://greenduckies.blogspot.com/2004/06/fish-hook-saga.html

Okay, this is all very fascinating, whatwith sharp things sticking into bodies, but I am focused on the many deviled eggs. Everywhere I go in the blogosphere, people ate deviled eggs all weekend long. As I did. Okay, just two, but there were plenty to choose from last night and they were good.

ok, not exactly a puncture but... being the OCD (the O being the operatived word in this story) that i am, i once sliced my index finger open just above the first knuckle all the way to the bone trying to get the little foil seal off the top of a bottle of paprika necessitating a trip to the emergency room for seven stitches and a stern lecture from the doctor for "playing with sharp objects while taking blood thinning drugs".

Once again, Holly, you have sparked one of the more interesting blog conversations. The only thing I have to compare would relate to my friend Barbara from 3rd grade. She was the total tomboy I aspired to be. She, of course, was aided by two older degenerate brothers and the fact that her family owned a trampoline. We used to jump off the roof of their shed and try to double bounce each other on the trampoline. But one day, she had a pickaxe - don't ask me where she got it. She was trying to open a rock which she was sure had a geode inside. She took a giant overhead swing, and promptly planted the tip of the pickaxe in her foot. I can still hear her scream. But don't worry - the family didn't overreact. Her brothers' told her what a moron she was, and her parents told her what a problem she was. My mom came to pick me up, and I think that was the last time i was allowed to hang out with Barbara by myself.

Susie, dear, chin up. Altthough your sister is telling your childhood embarassments on the internet, you can get a blog of your own one day and embarass her.

I'm too afraid to read the comments because I just KNOW someone is going to try to top the FORK IN THE FOREHEAD story and I don't think my stomach can take it.

I once ALMOST stabbed myself in the stomach whilst cutting open a brick of cheese, but , lucky for me, my husband was standing behind me (trying to "get a piece"-and NOT of the cheese, if you know what I'm sayin'-) and he grabbed my arm before it pentrated deep into my gut. I did have a minor surface wound, but imagine if he had not been there trying to get some of dat ass. How embarassing would THAT Funeral have been?

Hilarious! (Except for the probable ouch part. That is not so hilarious.) My little sister has a scar on her forehead from running her forehead into a railing on our stairs. I, thankfully, have never suffered a "ridiculous" type of injury. Unless you count that time I cut my finger so deep with scissors (whilst making paper dolls for a leadership class in high school. yeah. i have no idea.) that I had to go get stitches. But that isn't "ridiculous" at all... ; )

I thought eggs were another of those things that the body can't tolerate in mass quantities? Like how you can't drink a gallon of milk in an hour? Seriously, you can't. I have watched way too many people give it a shot and then hurl all over themselves. (The smart ones at least keep a trashcan nearby.)

My only stupid and moronic puncture wound came from rescuing a baby squirrel from the bushes. Its teeth punctured my finger right through these enormous gardening gloves I had on. I suppose I should have gotten tested for rabies or other terrible bacterial diseases, but I justified it by thinking that if the stray cats in the area were eating these squirrels and not dying of rabies, that I was probably safe. Ah, the idiotic days of college!

There's a heck of a lot of info in this post. Let's see:
1.Sorry about the boo-boo, good thing a nurse was standing by.
2. I would love to find a 3-piece wicker furniture set on the street! I think the green stripes are perfectly nice.
3.Thanks for the link to where the name of your blog comes from. From whence it came? Something without a dangling participle at the end.
4.A FORK sticking OUT OF her head? You were reading SWEET VALLEY HIGH? Sheesh!

24

Luke Apr 11, 2006

Hmm... It seems, Holly, that you have suspiciously omitted the story of the time when you SLAMMED my pinky in a door, SEVERING more than a centimetre from the tip. Doesn't sound too bad, I guess, but keep in mind I was like EIGHTEEN MONTHS OLD at the time.

Also, I was witness to the Fork In The Head incident, and though (being three), I didn't quite possess enough brain cells to remember it 100%, I DO remember running gleefully around the legs of panicking adults and bleeding children cheering, HOORAY! WE'RE GOING TO THE HOSPITAL! Sorry, Susie...

"Nobody can eat 50 eggs" - excellent Cool Hand Luke reference, which actually became more catchy in Reality Bites. But, whatever. I once ate a dozen deviled eggs all by myself, and I'm talking whole eggs, so really, that's 24 deviled eggs and I haven't had any in the 8 years since then because, well, barf. So, I agree that no one really CAN eat 50 eggs.

I sliced my hand open a few weeks ago making s'mores out in our firepit, so you're not alone. But considering that it's me you're not alone with, I doubt that's any consolation.

Josh, I was shoveling snow in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, for an old woman who lived down the block. I was not dressed for the occasion, having gotten up at 3 am in a burst of insomnia to shovel walks. In a sweater and pajamas.

Who knows why.

She had horrible icicles hanging from her eavestrough, and I thought I'd knock them down with a shovel before one impaled her without leaving any evidence of a weapon behind.

Unfortunately, when I hit them with the shovel, one fell tip-down on my shoulder and poked a good-sized hole in me. I didn't know I was bleeding (the cold air freezes such things) until I went inside, and then my sweater turned red around that area.

Okay, I'm sorry; you lost me. I cannot get past the freakish genetic mutation that is the Burns Family Luscious Lips, and the squicked-out-ed-ness I feel that that picture makes me want to make out with you.

I mean, I'd rather make out with Tom, being hetero, and all, but that's equally squicky because he's WAY too young for me. Either way, that's some powerful pull those lips have.

Holly, I love you, but frankly, your lips do nothing for me, and all that makes me throw up in my mouth a little. I do, however, envy your bony bony collarboniness. Obviously you are wasting away on South Beach and need some goat cheese tart to bring you back from the brink.

The thought of some little kid running around screeching and flapping her arms with a fork in her head just made me peal with laughter! Poor Susie!

And The Foot of Doom still tops all injury stories. Don't make me post "the photo."

I've never had a puncture wound (esp. in my forehead) but I did get hit by a bus once. My hair actually got caught under the wheel and it was quite dramatic. It's always quite awkward now when someone forgets and chortles that "you could be hit by a bus tomorrow, you know", and then I can feel the uncomfortable shifting and clearing of throats.

I was actually eating Shepherds Pie and my words were "Luke, Luke we don't have to finish our dinner before eating our custard!" Then came the fork. I don't even LIKE custard! Seriously though, you think with a story like this I'd have a date to the formal!!

No puncture wounds but currently my stupidest (and the only one that has resulted in an emergency room trip) accident involved me, a jersey wall, the parking lot at work, and a rock. I stepped onto the top of the Jersey wall to go over it, slipped on a small rock and face planted myself into the parking lot. Two scraped shins, two scraped plams and a sprained ankle later my supervisor is trying to figure out a recomendation on how to prevent this accident from occuring in the work place again. The best we could come up with is that I should not walk unsupervised.

My best friend got hit in mouth during a game of laser tag (in high school) and knocked out part of her front teeth. The parts that were left, unfortunatley, looked like fangs.